


Beyond the Cromwell Road

by Bookwormsarah



Category: Ballet Shoes - Noel Streatfeild
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-19
Updated: 2011-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookwormsarah/pseuds/Bookwormsarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war their lives moved onwards...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Cromwell Road

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mimi in the Yuletide 2007 Challenge  
> Thanks to the wonderful resource that is http://www.whitegauntlet.com.au/noelstreatfeild/

**Prologue**

"Auntie Petrova? Are you in? Later I mean. Can I come over after work?"

"Of course my darling, come for dinner. Is this in aid of anything special?"

"I've got something to show you. No, don't ask, it'll spoil the surprise."

"How very mysterious. I shall see you later. About seven?"

"Perfect. Can't wait! Love you."

"Bye, darling."

 **Coming Home**

When the war was over and the 'boys' came home, Petrova Fossil found herself out of a job. She had always known that there would be no need for spitfires and hurricanes to be ferried across the country once hostilities had ceased, but it hadn't occurred to her that there would be no more flying. It was all she had ever wanted to do, flying and mechanics. The airfield next to the cottage where she and Gum lived was slowly being taken over again by pleasure flights, but the small companies who owned the aircraft baulked at the idea of employing a female pilot. Instead she had to be content with tinkering with Gum's car, which had lain idle for the duration while petrol was almost impossible to find, and dealing with the stacks of papers he could barely read as his eyesight failed.

Years of strenuous training at the Academy and then in the Air Auxiliary had left their mark, and Petrova moved gracefully. She had, as Old Mrs Stephens at the Post Office said, "grown into her bones" and her neat dark hair framed a strong face. She had not lacked admirers during wartime, but had seen too many friends killed, and too many WAAFs give up their jobs to become wives. Petrova loved her independence and was perfectly content to live in the little cottage in Cambridgeshire with Gum. If only she could find another mechanical job, and if only her sisters lived closer, life would have been perfect.

Posy wrote spasmodically. Manoff was touring again, and the company were settling in for a season in New York. There was talk of a European tour, but until the theatres and opera houses of the continent could be rebuilt to former gloried, she had no desire to move from the comfortable dedicated life she led. Pauline had sent a parcel of magazines and clippings about the company. Still small, dainty, and looking younger than her years, Posy was a popular figure. She was photographed practicing, collecting a bouquet at the end of a performance, sitting in her dressing room surrounded by laughing and admiring members of the corps de ballet, and deep in conversation with her dancing partner. This last picture made Petrova look twice. He was a handsome young man with dark, expressive features, and the article hinted at possible romance. The letters received from the youngest Fossil made no suggestion of this, but when did Posy ever tell them anything beyond dancing.

Pauline was clearly missing London. Her films were box office draws, and in wartime when letters were far between, Petrova had often crept into the same film over and over again just to see her sister. As she watched Pauline grown older, she forgot that Pauline hadn't seen her since she was seventeen. One morning she found an envelope addressed in a scrawl, unlike her sister's usual tidy script. Tearing it open she found a short note explaining that Pauline had been engaged by a big London theatre, and would be sailing as soon as filming had wrapped on her current film.

It was a wildly excited Petrova who waited at the docks when Pauline stepped onto English soil for the first time in almost a decade. Waving madly at the crowds she kept her eyes peeled for the familiar blond hair, hoping against hope that Pauline would appear soon. There was a bustle at the top of the gangway and Petrova was pushed to one side by a crowd of press photographers and reporters clutching pads. She glanced across, only idly curious, still watching for her sister. Then the voices reached her

"Miss Fossil! Miss Fossil!"

"Pleased to be back in England, Miss Fossil?"

Pauline? A figure stepped off the end of the gangway and looked around, signing autographs almost carelessly, smiling at the crowd, but not seeing the face she was looking for. Petrova pushed forward and tried to call out, but was pushed to one side by a determined looking woman with a small girl in tow. Suddenly Pauline saw her, and the automatic smile was replaced by a beam of delight.

"Petrova!" The strangers stepped back, and Pauline flung herself at her sister. The blond head and the dark head blurred together as the sisters swung each other round. Then a cough from one side recalled them to the crowds and Petrova became aware of the popping of flashbulbs and was suddenly horribly conscious of her shabby tweed skirt and jacket beside Pauline's neat, fashionable suit of blue-grey worsted wool. Pauline was every inch a film star as she answered the questions, and finally allowing a dignified woman with perfectly coiffed hair to usher them away. "Thank you Miss Baines." Still clutching Pauline by the hand she explained "Miss Baines works for the studio and arranged the tickets and...oh everything." Then she turned back to her sister "Oh Petrova! I can't believe I'm really here."

In the car from Southampton (Miss Baines had taken a lot of persuading to allow Petrova to drive her sister and would have preferred the star to travel in the studio car), Pauline could not take her eyes from her sister. Almost ten years was a long time. The younger girl felt Pauline's eyes on her and flashed a quick grin.

"I have a job." This was News indeed. Letters travelling between Hollywood and Cambridgeshire had chronicled the frustration and boredom Petrova was feeling. "I'm an assistant to an archaeology Professor. He has a private plane and needs someone to fly him to look at sites from the air. I'm going to drive him about too, isn't it wonderful!"

"It sounds perfect, and terribly exciting. How did you find it?"

"He was a student of Gum's. I think he went on expeditions with him. He came to visit Gum a month ago and they started planning some new sites to investigate. Dr Austen damaged his leg and can no longer fly himself, so Gum volunteered me. He didn't like the idea at first, but when he heard my record he signed me on. He said that anyone who could land in thick fog with a land crew of sceptical airmen expecting them to crash, could manage a spot of aerial reconnaissance over some Roman remains."

Pauline settled back in her seat and sighed. "So you are settled with a flying job, Posy is a ballerina on tour, and my play opens in a few weeks. Could any of us have imagined anything more perfect?"

Petrova concentrated on the junction ahead, and then laughed "Posy could. She knew she would dance, and she always went full strength to get her way." Her voice grew serious "She was still only a child when I last saw her, just after they were evacuated from Czechoslovakia. I haven't seen Garnie or Nana in such a long while. How are they?"

Pauline looked sympathetic. She had always felt slightly guilty that she had Garnie, and then Nana and Posy, while the middle Fossil had been left with the relative stranger Gum. "Both very well. They have been talking about taking a trip to England, but Nana's rheumatism bothers her at the slightest suggestion of damp. I kept the house because the Studio still has an option on me, although there shouldn't be another movie for at least a year. Garnie and Nana love it, and they are kept really busy." She laughed at herself "Listen to me, do I sound terribly American? Now tell me all about your professor, and Gum, and the cottage. Oh, Petrova, I've missed you so."

 **Visiting Hour**

Despite seeing the newsreels, Pauline had not been prepared for the reality of the bombsites. Petrova had driven in to London to meet her sister and, leaving Gum to potter happily around the Natural History Museum, the two girls stood on the Cromwell Road looking up at their old home.

"I'm glad it survived," said Pauline "I used to worry about it when the newsreels showed the bomb damage. Silly, I know." A smile spread across her face "Petrova! Shall we go to the Academy on the Underground? We can pretend we are pupils again, walking ahead of Nana."

Petrova grinned back "Hoping that Posy wouldn't decide to dance and embarrass us all."

The Academy looked very much the same. As with all buildings in London it needed a lick of paint, and the iron railings had been taken away for scrap, but it was easy for the Fossil sisters to pretend that they were children again.

"Do you suppose Madame will have changed much? Will your curtsey wobble as much as it used to?" and leaving her sister looking horror struck at the idea of having to curtsey again, Pauline stepped up and pulled on the bell.

The door was answered by a teacher, wearing practice clothes. She looked harassed, but promised to see if Madame Fidola could see them. She was young, and did not appear to recognise Pauline, although turned a gentle puce when Petrova gave their names. While they waited for the teacher to return, Petrova looked at the photographs around the walls. So many were the same faces that had fascinated them as children. "Babs" and "Baby Cora" still simpered out at them, but they had been joined by more recent shots of a performance to entertain the troops, and scenes from West End plays. In the middle of one wall was a photograph of herself and Pauline, hand in hand as Tyltyl and Mytyl. She turned to show her sister, but the older girl gave an exclamation and hurried off along the corridor.

"Winifred! Winifred!" Winifred Bagnall had been heading towards the record library to replace the music from her last lesson, when she heard her name being called. It was a familiar voice, but one she could not quite place.

"Winifred! Oh how wonderful to see you. How are you? Are you teaching?" Pauline Fossil! Winifred clutched her records and gaped at her friend, not seen and seldom heard from since her departure for Hollywood. The first couple of years they had exchanged Christmas cards and picture postcards, but when the War started all that had come to an end. Now, here was Pauline, famous film star, glowing with delight at seeing her - plain, mousy Winifred. Catching a small boy as he walked past trying not to gawp, she handed him the records and pulled Pauline into an empty classroom.

"Pauline, what are you doing here? Does Madame know?" Pauline gave a start.

"Oh my, someone went to see if she is free. I must go back, it would be terrible to keep Madame waiting." Winifred followed her to where an anxious Petrova and a pink faced girl in academy overalls were looking anxiously into the corridor.

"Oh there you are. Isobel is going to take us to Madame as Miss Wallace is teaching now...Winifred, is it really you?"

Winifred blushed and nodded, then turned to the child "Thank you Isobel, but you can run along. I'll take the Miss Fossil's to Madame." The little girl nodded and left, somewhat reluctantly. At the door she caught Pauline's hand "I'm taking some of the children through their m'auditions, but do find me before you leave?" She sounded a little uncertain, but Pauline's smile and handclasp reassured her.

Madame Fidolia was as dignified as they remembered. The curtsey came quite naturally, even to Petrova who was always more graceful than she had believed. She asked many questions about film acting, and promised to arrange a meeting with Sorrel Forbes, the young actress Pauline had supported with a scholarship, and her brother Mark.

"The little Rachel Winter will also be delighted to see you again. Now" she rose and took Petrova's chin in her hand "my little Russian. You do not miss the stage?" Scarlet, Petrova shook her head

"No, Madame."

"Hmph. It is not for everybody, but you could have done well. The heart was elsewhere, and if you have not the heart, you cannot succeed. Now, tell me about Posy and her work with the great Manoff." Her voice softened as she spoke of the youngest Fossil, who had long been a favourite, and Pauline did her best to answer the many questions until they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Miss Wallace put her head in, somewhat uncertainly.

"Please, Madame, Rita, Lucy and Miriam are ready for their lesson. Would you like me to ask Miss Bagnall to take them?" Madame shook her head.

"It has been a delight to see you. Pauline, I shall come to see your performance. Now, I must go to my lesson. I am sure your other teachers will be pleased for you to visit them." Miss Wallace glanced at the sisters, and murmured that Miss Jay was in the small hall, and Miss Bagnall in classroom three. Then she vanished, leaving the film star and the pilot to seek out old friends.

 **Sorrow**

Pauline Fossil had not thought twice when the telegram arrived at the dressing room door. A Hollywood star making her West End debut (the film magazine Posy had sent her ignored her teenaged years, and thank goodness no one had dragged up a photograph of that ghastly pantomime) expected lots of attention. She finished her make-up, glanced at the clock, and then feeling calm and confident, ripped open the envelope.

"Gum died. Please come if you can. Petrova."

The consummate professional, Pauline played her part to perfection that night. Then, calmly, she arranged for her understudy to play the matinee, promised to be back for the sold-out evening show, and asked the porter to summon a taxi. Three hours later she was standing at the door of the cottage, wondering whether or not to knock.

It was Petrova she had been thinking of through the long drive. After all, she and Posy had barely known Gum, while Petrova had lived with him since before the War. When Pauline had returned from the United States, she had spent weekends in the cottage in Cambridgeshire, and the three of them had taken short walks that Gum could barely manage and boated on the river. Great Uncle Matthew was a dear, but still almost a stranger. Petrova, however, was going to be devastated. She raised her hand and knocked on the door.

Petrova Fossil had always been pale, but the face that greeted Pauline was quite ghastly. She flung her arms about her sister, another unusual gesture, and murmured "You came!"

Pauline hugged back the slim, bowed figure, and whispered "Of course". They broke apart and stepped into the shadowy hallway. The older woman caught sight of the clock. "Oh Petrova, two in the morning! What would Nana say!" At this thought her sister started to giggle, but it turned into a choky sob.

Sitting in the kitchen close to the aga as they waiting for the kettle to boil, Petrova explained how she had returned home at her usual time to find Gum asleep in his deckchair. He was frail now, and often slept in the afternoons. She had finished preparing the meal left by their daily woman, gone to wake him, and found he was cold. The doctor, who knew old Professor Brown and his queer young niece well, had been sent for, and he had made all the necessary arrangements.

They talked until, to her astonishment, Pauline saw that the sky was greying and the first birds had started to sing. Reluctantly they dragged themselves up to bed, and when Pauline awoke, Petrova was standing in the doorway, her face bleak. "Posy isn't coming to the funeral." She held out the telegram 'Many condolences. Tour starts Tuesday. Writing. Posy Fossil'. Pauline wrapped her arms around her sister.

"You didn't expect her to come across from America, did you? Even if she had found a berth in a crossing today she wouldn't arrive before Friday." Petrova shook her head.

"Of course not, she couldn't miss her tour." She glanced at Pauline's watch, hanging from the nail beside the bed. "I haven't heard from Garnie, I wonder whether I should run down to the Post Office and try and book a transatlantic call."

Pauline nodded and arose, wrapping herself in the cardigan she had borrowed from Petrova the night before. "You know that they probably won't be able to come to England for the funeral, don't you?" her sister nodded, running her hand through the dark hair she kept short, regardless of the fashion.

"Oh Pauline," her voice broke "I shall miss him."

 **Joy**

"Petrova?" The sun was glorious and the sisters had been almost asleep. They had motored up to the coast and were lying on rugs in the dunes, both dressed in sun suits that were a relic of Pauline's California days.

"Hmm?" Petrova turned over to squint at her sister

"How should you like to be an Aunt?" This caught the younger woman's attention and she sat up with a shocked expression.

"Pauline! You aren't...?" Pauline laughed.

"Oh no, you goose, not me." She grew serious. "One of the wardrobe assistants is in trouble. I thought," she grew red, "I thought that I might adopt the baby. There isn't a question of marriage, and the poor thing is very young. It seemed strangely right. It is the way Posy came to us, isn't it. I could teach her to act; she could learn dancing from Winifred and have master classes from her Auntie Posy."

Petrova felt the funny feeling in her solar plexus vanish "I shall teach her geometry and how to mend an engine and fly a 'plane."

"She can go to the Academy"

"Or to a High School and take her school certificate"

"But either way she'll have all the chances."

"Pauline, you do realise that it could be a boy? Would you be terribly disappointed?"

"Don't be silly, all Fossil babies are girls."

 **Epilogue**

The doorbell rang in the cottage in Cambridgeshire overlooking the airfield. Planes still took off and landed, resisting lucrative development offers, thanks in no small part to the elderly lady who took regular pleasure flights and persuaded the mechanics to let her look at the engines of everything they were working on. She had been married to a Professor once, and they had travelled the world taking photographs that were still displayed in the University Museum. He had died back in the seventies, and they had never had children. The books they had published were under the name of Prof and Mrs Austen, but Petrova still thought of herself as a Fossil.

Leaning on the stick that had once belonged to her Great Uncle Matthew, she opened the door to her great-niece, who was hopping about like a cat on hot bricks. "Rebecca, darling, come inside and tell me what you are so excited about. Wait, and I'll put the kettle on." Taking a seat in the living room, Rebecca placed the precious carrier bag on a cushion and looked about the familiar room. The glitzy biography of her glamorous Aunt Posy, recently retired from teaching all but a few special pupils, lay open on the coffee table. Flicking through the index Rebecca noted that Petrova had three mentions, while her own grandmother Pauline merited over a dozen.

When Petrova returned with two mugs, her niece dropped the book and hurried to help. Eventually settled, she perched on the arm of the chair, and handed over the bag, which bore the name of the big Air Museum where Rebecca worked. Baffled, the older woman opened it, and drew out a glossy hardback book. She looked up at the young woman, who took it from her and started to turn the pages.

"Do you remember when Jim from the archive came over with me, not long after I started work? He recorded all your stories, and..."

Petrova nodded, still confused. "He had an electronic recorder he was going to plug into his computer."

"Well," Rebecca was almost bursting with pride "His book has been published, and look! Lots of you in it! He even found photos of you." She handed over the book to her great-aunt, who took it with trembling hands.

"Petrova Fossil" There she was! Her words describing the women who flew the planes from the factories to the bases. A picture of her standing beside a Hurricane. Another of a concert she had been reluctantly persuaded to take part in, secretly laughing at the amazement when she told the others of her Academy days. There again on another page, her comments about the air crew and their reactions, about the dangers they all faced, about the changes after the War. Over and over again she appeared, in this publication from a National Museum. Tears came briefly into her eyes as she stroked the cover, thinking of three little girls and a birthday long ago.

"We vowed," she whispered, almost too softly for Rebecca to hear, "We vowed."


End file.
